


Goodnight Moon

by afractionof



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, non-sburb AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 19:33:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/930264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afractionof/pseuds/afractionof
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Home really is where the heart is and whether it's in questionable love letters or a kiss goodnight on the top of your roof, Strider-style at eleven PM or not and you're finding that, perhaps, that was exactly you'd wanted all along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goodnight Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Song Rec ==> Goodnight Moon by Go Radio

Bringing the pen down toward the paper, you wrinkle your nose and scratch out the last three lines.

They were rather unnecessary. 

There was no point in tacking of poetic drivel to a serious piece of correspondence like this-- at least, in your opinion there wasn’t. You were inclined to believe that Ro-Lal was less concerned with the rather delicate nature of the information that was about to be divulged on the pastel blue stationary she’d gifted to you last winter. Which made you wonder… why were you writing it all down in the first place?

Sitting back in your chair, you sigh softly and shake your head. 

You suppose you just want to say something, yet you’re not sure what to say. At one point in time, the two of you had frequently sat around giggling about possible futures with Mr. Jake English and Di-Stri. Even at thirteen, it’d sounded silly but, somehow, the two of you had held onto the notion for the next three years. 

And, then, well… you’re not quite sure what exactly had happened. 

Actually, that might not entirely true. If you were to take an educated guess, you would likely say Calliope had happened and that it was most certainly a good thing. 

Roxy was happy and had seemingly forgotten all her previous plans of having multiple blonde haired, amber eyed children and replaced them with Calliope’s desire to adopt someday. The sleepovers now included a third party and though your father had taken a bit of convincing once he’d learned of their situation, it had become a regular, Friday night affair. 

Calliope was sweet, with a soft voice and a small, warm smile. She held Roxy’s hand in public as well as private and never failed to offer to help you in the kitchen, despite her lack of knowledge on anything but boxed cakes and the occasional brownie mix. 

It was fun. 

It was something you looked forward too. 

But, you wouldn’t deny it made you feel somewhat lonely as well…

Your conversations with Jake were still going strong, however they’d taken a turn from ‘Dirk this’ and ‘Dirk that’ to where he, Miss Serket, and Miss Harley were planning to go adventuring after graduation. His insistence that they find jobs in some distant jungle full of killer frogs and snakes that could swallow them whole was nothing if not entertaining, especially when Jade got in on the conversation and threw her two cents into possibly going to Egypt instead, but you didn’t feel the same excitement you had before. 

It wasn’t your adventure, after all, and you were no longer yearning to be included in it. You were just… happy for him. He seemed like he was happy and that’s really all you wanted for him. 

And then there was Dirk. 

Try as you might, you simply couldn’t pinpoint just when your relationship with Dirk went from a tightly wound, rather questionable friendship, centered on a mutual infatuation with the same boy, to something much softer. 

He was there when you woke up, messaging you a short ‘Morning.’ and then a quick ‘Be safe.’ precisely two minutes before you pulled out of your driveway to head to school. In the evening when you’d pulled up your chair, books open to complete your homework, he was there once again, filling your screen with orange lines of text and tasteless comparisons between the current lessons and the seemingly strange colored toilet water that plagued the Strider household. He was there when you fell asleep, often tempting you into staying up far too late as you discussed the latest episode of whatever television show the two of you were watching. He’d even gone so far as to start showing up at your house uninvited, much to your father’s disapproval, boxed DVD set of My Little Pony or Sherlock in hand.

He became a constant, more so than he’d ever been before and, now, you have no idea what to do about it. 

Graduation is right around the corner. You’ll be going your separate ways, as most people do and… well, you’re going to miss him and it’s a bit startling to think that, of all your friends, he will be the one you miss the most. 

You’d assumed Roxy would take that place…

Shaking your head, you reach forward and fold the paper you’ve been contemplating for the last hour. It tears easily enough before you drop the thin scraps down into the garbage can beneath the desk.

Perhaps Ro-Lal isn’t the one you should be speaking to and, perhaps, serious correspondence is the opposite of what you’re really looking for. 

But, that will have to wait until morning. It’s too late to be picking up your phone and waking up people that should be-- but likely aren’t-- sleeping. Though, you suspect you won’t need to worry about that. It’s quite probable that the second you lie down in bed your phone will light up and the smiling face in the contact picture you have set for one Mr. Dirk Strider will show up, a new message icon floating beneath it. 

He never fails to be consistent at least and, true to your assumptions, the second your head hits the pillow, your phone vibrates on your desk and you can’t seem to stifle the smile that pulls at your lips as you reach for it. 

\--timeausTestified [TT] began pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG] at 10:30pm--

TT: Goodnight, Jane.  
GG: I’m sure you know as well as I do that it’s not entirely goodnight, Strider.  
TT: Forgive me for wanting to preserve a sense of habit, Miss Crocker.  
TT: It’s only polite, after all, to wish you goodnight, is it not?  
TT: I must be forgetting my manners. Your father will be most displeased.  
GG: Quite right.  
GG: He’ll certainly be devastated, though only momentarily, I suppose.  
TT: Only momentarily?  
TT: I’m almost offended.  
GG: I think he’s a bit tired of the impromptu, late night showings of random television in the living room.  
TT: He just has no taste in good art.  
GG: I don’t know if that’s what I’d call it.  
TT: I’m going to ignore that comment in favor of asking you how your day was and continuing our routine.  
TT: That said, how was your day? I saw you skipping out on lunch again.

You sigh, shaking your head as you reply. 

You didn’t ‘skip out’ on lunch, per say. You were simply a bit too busy to get down more than half an apple and a bottle of water. But, when you tell him so, he doesn’t seem all that convinced. 

TT: Eat with me tomorrow.  
GG: That’s not necessary.  
TT: Jane.

Lunch has always been a separate affair for the four of you. Dirk had his brothers, Jake had Jade and John and their friends, and you’d had Roxy. However, as of late Roxy had been busy—understandably, of course—and eating with Jake was less than comfortable with Miss Serket hanging around. You wouldn’t say the two of you really saw eye to eye, and though Jake was oblivious as usual, you weren’t. And neither was she. 

Uncomfortable was the least of what you’d call sitting with them. 

So, you’d started helping out in the library during your lunch break, snacking on apples or crackers, or whatever you and Aranea were allowed to split amongst the books. 

You hadn’t expected to find Vriska’s sister so welcoming, but she was. Aranea was smart and kind, but had a playful side you suspected came from Meenah, who tended to hang around and peer over the shelves at the two of you, dropping little fish-shaped love notes down into Aranea’s lap before she disappeared back to where ever she’d come from. They were cute, sweet little notes that never failed to leave the both of you smiling, despite her insistence that she and Meenah were nothing more than friends. 

You found that highly unlikely. 

TT: Jane.  
TT: Jane Crocker.  
TT: Earth to Janey.  
GG: Janey? Have you been talking to Roxy about nicknames again?  
TT: What? A man can’t use a cute name for a cute girl?  
GG: I think you need to go to bed now, Dirk.  
TT: No.  
GG: Yes.  
TT: No, I want to ask you something.  
GG: And what is that?  
TT: How far is the drop from your roof?  
GG: What?  
TT: Your roof. How far is it to the ground?

Glancing up, you frown. 

On top of not being sure exactly how tall your house is, you’re not sure why he’d need to know unless he was planning something ridiculous and far too Strider-like for your nerves to handle.

GG: I don’t know.  
GG: Are you planning on testing it by doing something ridiculous?  
TT: I might be.  
GG: Dirk, there will be no jumping off my roof.  
GG: I’m sure father will be most displeased if he comes home to find you splattered all over the freshly cut lawn the next time you come over.  
TT: Good then.  
TT: I was thinking more for the immediate future.

Immediate… future?

GG: Dirk?  
TT: It’s a nice view, Jane.  
TT: You got lucky living in this suburban wasteland.  
TT: I can see the stars, even.  
TT: You should really come have a look.

You sit up immediately, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed and hurry to the window. 

He’s right. The view from your house is much nicer than the city. There’s a soft light from the rows of houses but, other than that, you can still pick out the stars and there’s enough darkness to offer that late-night feel you find the brighter lights ruins. 

It’s peaceful. 

For the most part, at least. 

To the left, however, you can see a familiar orange shoe dangling off the edge that, you must say, is ruining that peaceful atmosphere he mentioned, and you can’t stifle a surprised gasp as you push open the window and lean out. 

“Strider! What in the world are you doing on my roof?” 

“Sitting, of course.” 

Oh, yes—of course. How silly of you to wonder why Dirk would be perched atop your roof this late in the evening. What an utterly ridiculous question. 

You shoot a glance at your door, chewing your lip for a moment before you snag an oversized T-shirt off your dresser and tug it on. You don’t bother with longer pants. The shorts you can live with, the sleep top, you cannot. 

Muttering under your breath, you hurry from the room, phone still clutched in your hand as you make your way quickly to the other side of the hall and down into the kitchen before slipping out the back as quietly as you can. 

The night air is cool but not completely unpleasant and as you sneak around to the far side of the house, you have to smile because it’s been a long time since you’ve felt the grass between your toes and the little tickle it leaves on the soles of your feet. There’s a ladder set up near the window of the spare bedroom and you almost roll your eyes when you spot his shock of blond hair sticking up at the peak of the roof. 

He’s completely ridiculous. 

And so are you, apparently, because you scale the ladder without hesitation and gingerly pick your way across to sit beside him. 

“What are you even doing?” you ask him, shaking your head. 

He shrugs and looks over, giving you the same lazy, but rather precise smile you’ve grown to expect from him. “Enjoying the view, obviously.” 

“Oh, obviously.” 

His laugh is warm and you draw your knees up to your chest, hooking your arms around them, both to shield you from the breeze and from his glance, and smile when he scoots over. His shoulder is brushing yours and you find yourself leaning into the warmth he offers, despite the urge demand what he’s really doing up here this late. 

Still, you’ve always felt rather steady next to Dirk. As up and down as he can be, he’s become your rock. You’re positive one of the only reasons your friendship really worked out was simply because you even each other out—practical and logical, somewhat passive and mildly dramatic. Perhaps it wasn’t the best combination but you don’t really believe there’s such a thing to begin with. 

Especially not right now… 

Right now, there’s you and Dirk and his arm snaking around your shoulders. There’s your sigh and you nestle against his side and the smile and you can practically hear it when he cards his fingers through your hair. There’s the sky and the stars and the supremely ridiculous nature of the idea that you’re sitting on your roof this late at night because Dirk Strider decided it he simply had to comment on the view.

There are quite a few things, really, but one thing that’s severely lacking is answers. 

As much as you’re enjoying yourself and, really, you don’t think you actually require a reason to be snuggled up like this, you’re still curious as to why in the world he’s even at your house this late, unexpectedly, without bothering to inform you that he would be staging any undercover missions to stargaze in your lovely neighborhood. 

“…Dirk?” 

“Hm.” 

His response is softer than you’re used to and when you glance up, he’s got his head tipped back, eyes on the sky. You can see the inside of his shades for once and, on impulse, you reach up to tap one sharp corner to get his attention. 

He looks down immediately, almost automatically, you’d say. “Jane?” 

“Why exactly are we on the roof?” you ask.

And you find it interesting that he doesn’t respond immediately. There is no quick, concise and somewhat snarky remark in reply, though the moment is rife with opportunity. 

There’s silence and a deep-seated need to see his eyes and the simple answer that’s obscured from your vision by those silly anime shades. 

You’re about to tell him so when his fingers ghost along your jaw and his hand cups your cheek. “I missed you.” 

It’s not the answer you were expecting, to say the least. It’s simple and somewhat raw, something you’re not used to from him, and, for a moment, you’re not entirely sure what he means by that. “…Dirk, we chat every evening.” 

“I know.” He looks about as confused as you feel if the thin edge to his lips and the little frown he’s wearing are any indication. “…I know. But, I missed you and that’s really the only answer I have right now.” 

“Is it because we’re graduating soon?” 

“I don’t know,” he repeats and you want to protest that, surely, he has something a little more… explanatory… than that, but you bite the inside of your cheek because this is Dirk. Pushing, whether it seems simple to you or anyone else or not, will get you nowhere and, really, you’re aware that the second he knows, you’re just as likely to know.

So, you simply nod and hesitantly tip your head into the touch. His hands are warm and broad, palms callused from the rough inner seams of his gloves and you can’t help a small smile that he’s, for once, not wearing them. And though you have to wonder if he simply forgot them or if it was purposeful, you file it under the list of things to ask later as well. You like the little tan lines that cross over the backs of his hands and the difference in color from the little holes in the leather to what it usually covers. They look like large, neatly spaced freckles but you’ll never say anything about them. You know better than that with him—especially now, when you’re not sure why they’re visible or if he even meant to be showing them off.

He’s nervous, at least you think he is and given the tight edge to his jaw and the shaky movement of his thumb against your cheek, you’re inclined to stick to your assumption. And you’re not quite sure if that’s what prompts your or if you simply wanted to all along, but you take his hand in yours and bring your lips to the center of his palm. 

You think you might be starting to understand and when you tell him that, his response dies on your lips, little more than a soft sigh when he kisses you. 

You’re going to miss him too, but maybe you don’t have to.

His fingers have found their way up, into your hair and you’re no longer hugging you knees but curling your fingers into the thin material of his shirt as he caresses your cheek and urges you closer. You go, looping an arm around his neck so you can press closer and when he pulls back, his cheeks are a similar shade as your own and he’s smiling that soft, hesitant smile you only rarely see. 

And you think, perhaps, there’s no need for silly love letters, well thought-out and to the point or not. No shaky confessions that leave you far more embarrassed or secrets kept between friends. He’s said it quite well enough, after all, and there’s no need to muddle it up with words that will inevitably come out wrong. 

That’s one thing the two of you definitely have in common and when he laughs and you have to hide a smile against his shoulder, you think he probably feels it too. 

There’s no need for any of those things because you’re friends before anything else. You understand him, and he understands you. And, yes, you’re going to miss him but there’s something a little more behind that, another option the two of you have been dancing around and you suppose this is, if nothing else, perhaps the first sentence in a true, less thought out and far from eloquent love letter yet to come.


End file.
